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Tuesday, 11 August 2015

The Dwarves of Simonside (NZ025985)

Hundreds, possibly
thousands, of innocent, decent folk wander across the Simonside Hills every
year. The upland trails to the south of Rothbury carry the rambler through a
varied landscape rich in ancient history (cup and ring marks, et al), but what most don’t realise is that
they are trespassing on the land of the Duergar, a breed of malicious dwarf
which roam thereabouts with the sole aim, it seems, of leading the likes of us
astray and, possibly, to our doom. You don’t hear much of them nowadays, but
until Victorian times the annals are scattered with references to these pesky
little critters – and none of the stories are especially happy affairs.

The word
‘Duergar’ comes from the the old Norse word Dvergar,
meaning dwarf. And the particular breed which inhabit the Simonside Hills are a
troublesome lot. At about half the height of a human, they pop up at night, or
in the gloaming, when a hiker is beginning to tire and may possibly be lost.
They are dressed in earthy colours – brown and/or green – and always seem to be
in a distinctly grumpy mood, as if the unsuspecting human is trespassing on
their land. There will then be an awkward encounter, during which the victim
will be variously teased and lured into danger, before some distraction (or the
returning daylight) causes them to evaporate into thin air, leaving the
traveller nonplussed.

One tale has two
hunters encountering just such a creature whilst resting near a brook. A
red-eyed, angry little personage popped up on the opposite bank and berated
them for encroaching upon his patch. When offered the fruits of their hunt as
recompense, the dwarf became yet more incensed as he never fed on living
creatures. In time, the little man tried to entice one of them home, but on the
call of his colleague a few yards distant, the duergar vanished.

Another yarn has
a weary traveller struggling home over the moors when he comes upon a little
campfire and decides to sit next to it to warm his bones. Up springs another of
those pesky duergars who grumpily plays the role of reluctant host across the
flickering flames. In time, the dwarf gestures to the man as if to urge him to
throw a nearby log onto the fire, but he resists and stays put. They sit opposite one another, somewhat
uncomfortably, until dawn begins to break. A cock crows in the distance… and
the ugly little host suddenly disappears, along with the rest of the cosy
scene. Then the man sees that if he’d leant over to retrieve the log he’d have
toppled over the side of a ravine…

Occasionally, a
gang of duergars would emerge from the shadows and set about some poor
individual, sending them running and flailing for their lives. Shepherds of old
would regularly bear witness to their comings and goings, too. A common feature
is the presence of alluring lights – the duergar appearing as will-o’-the-wisp-like
characters, but always disappearing as dawn breaks, or when the ‘spell’ is
broken by some other sudden event.

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